Once Upon a Halloween
by owlcroft
Summary: A small costume competition between maritime men. A Halloween story in answer to the challenge.


**A/N: **These characters are not my creation and no profit is made from this story.

**Once Upon a Halloween**

by

Owlcroft

"Here, what d'you think about this?" McCormick held up a scary-faced pumpkin for the judge's approval.

Hardcastle examined it, head tilted. "That's not bad. Maybe carve the eyebrows a little bigger. Hey, how'd you do that so fast?"

Mark hmmp'ed and rotated the large gourd to check the eyebrows himself. "Black magic marker. Pretty nifty, huh?"

"That's cheating," protested the judge. He thought for a moment, then added, "Well, maybe not."

"You're just upset 'cause you didn't think of it first," chuckled McCormick. "So that's the pirate costume you're wearing?"

"Yeah, you think it's okay?" Hardcastle hunched his shoulders, assumed a sneer, and croaked, "Arr, matey." He waved his plastic hook and took a halting step on his cardboard peg leg.

"Ooh, shivered _my _timbers." Mark chuckled again and added more eyebrow to the pumpkin. "Did you remember to get some candy at the store?"

Hardcastle shook his head. "We still got a lot of those malted milk balls. I figured I'd wrap 'em up in tin foil and hand 'em out."

McCormick looked at him, mouth curled. "Cheapskate." He finished the pumpkin brows and added, "What'd we get last year? Five, six kids?"

"Well, it's not a surprise." The judge removed his hook and his cardboard and picked up the stuffed parrot for his shoulder. "Not a lot of families with little kids around here these days, and with all the goofy stuff people get up to, you want your kids to go to places where you know the folks."

"Yeah," sighed Mark. "That's a shame, isn't it?"

"Yeah," agreed the fierce pirate. "Wasn't like that even a few years ago. We used to get lotsa kids here, little ghosts and clowns and cowboys. Nancy loved that, pretending to be scared and handing out the treats. She used to make cookies or cupcakes and wrap 'em all up in black and orange paper. We'd have some jack o'lanterns along the driveway and one year she found some kinda spray stuff that made cobwebs. Took us a week to get that gunk outta all the trees." He smiled at the memory, then held up the parrot. "How does this go on?"

McCormick took it from him and pulled open the velcro straps on the bird's feet. "Here, turn around and let me do it." He attached the parrot, looked at it critically, shrugged, and asked, "Her favorite holiday too, huh?"

"Ah, she liked all of them." Hardcastle twitched his shoulder to see if the parrot was firmly anchored. "Probably like Christmas best, but Halloween was always great because it's all about kids."

Mark looked around for something to occupy his hands, chose the ceramic cornucopia and picked it up, then asked tentatively, "So, it changed for you after she died?"

The judge frowned, but in thought, not displeasure. "Well, yeah. After she was gone, I guess I didn't feel like things would be the same. So, I went for the grown-up stuff. You know, inviting people over that I knew from court . . . some neighbors, too, of course and friends of ours. But there were already fewer kids showing up. I guess it's just changed from one tradition to another now."

"It's a good tradition." McCormick set the mini-pumpkins around the cornucopia and stepped back to appraise the arrangement. "I think a lot of those people get a real kick out of being able to dress up like a kid again." He looked at the pirate out of the corner of his eye. "How's that parrot doing?"

"I think it's okay." Hardcastle waggled his shoulder again. "Seems to be pretty solid. Hey, you haven't changed yet and it's quarter after six. We're supposed to be ready by six-thirty. Where's my eye-patch got to?" He picked up his pirate hat and donned it, adjusting it carefully so as not to jar the parrot.

Mark held up the errant eye-patch. "You have to take the hat off, judge, to get this on."

"Oh, yeah." The judge took it from him and removed the tricorn. "What're you wearing this year, anyway?"

The McCormick grin broke out. "Well, I figured I'd get some coveralls and carry a mop and bucket, but nah. I do that every day."

The judge flipped up the eye-patch. "Yeah, yeah. So what'd you get?"

"I, my dear Blackbeard, am an admiral." McCormick looked down his nose at his friend and dusted his fingernails on his shirt. "Yellow feathers on the hat, gold braid on those shoulder things, the whole deal. I," he placed a palm on his chest, "_outrank _you!"

Hardcastle screwed up his face and muttered, "I'll keelhaul you." He turned his head to face the parrot on his shoulder. "Arr, what's that you say, Polly? That's right." He raised his fist, looked at it in surprise, smacked his forehead with it then grabbed up his plastic hook again. "You'll walk the plank for this!" he roared.

"Scuttlebutt," replied Mark loftily. "Sheer hardtack, my good Hardcastle."

The doorbell rang. The two men looked at each other, then McCormick said, "You take care of the mizzenmast and the mainsail. I'll go get dressed." Up the steps he darted and down the hallway toward the back door.

"An admiral, huh?" said the judge, heading for the front door. "More like the first mate, if you ask me. And don't be asking me for any crackers, either," he growled at the parrot.


End file.
